The First Time
by tinacreeper
Summary: Jack and Sam sleep together for the first time. No plot. Just getting straight to the point. Set between season 8 and 9.


**The First Time**

The first time they had sex was messy. Years of pent up emotion and sexual tension came crashing down into one rough, uncoordinated, and clumsy exercise.

Not yet familiar with each other's curves and movements to establish a routine, or rhythm for that matter, the two ultimately found themselves against the kitchen bench of Jack's house. He had tried to perch her atop the marble surface but at that very same moment she took the opportunity to turn around, assuming that he would navigate his way from her neck and down her back, and that his hands would glide down her breasts. Instead, she ended up with her hipbone making sharp contact with the edge of the bench. She stifled a moan of pain and he took a step away from her.

Sam's shirt had been cast aside some time ago, exposing her red, heaving chest, burning from his lips and teeth. Her neck was no better, and her lips were red, wet, and swollen. She wiped the corner of them with her thumb as she breathed heavily. Her hair was a mess, but he preferred it like that anyway. Her eyes bore into him, almost embarrassed, and the most open he'd ever seen them.

Jack, on the other hand, remained fully clothed; his cock pulsated persistently against his jeans, and the scratches she'd left up and down the curvature of his spine began to sting as his sweat began to fill the broken skin.

"Ow," she said after they'd collected their breaths. He laughed shallowly, glancing to the red mark he hadn't put on her hipbone. Her monosyllabic statement arousing something else in the pit of his stomach, something far more familiar he felt on a daily basis. His heart swelled and rose into his throat. More.

He stepped against her gently, pressing his weight against her as her tailbone braced them against his kitchen bench. He took her head in his hands, brushing hair out of her eyes and focusing in on them. They were wide and moist, needy and comforting. Familiar. His thumb ran under the left - smeared mascara latching onto his skin and streaking across her cheek in his wake. She smiled into his palm, and hungrily took his lips with hers. Their tongues met and feverishly demanded more of each other with every stroke of his against hers, with every twist and every turn.

Her hips moved unexpectedly, and he matched her, grinding his pelvis slowly against her causing her to moan against his mouth. The vibrations shook him to the core and he increased the pressure of his thrusts, one of his hands snaked it's way down her side, brushing the side of her breast as he went. It slowly slid between them and he found the button of her jeans.

"Jack, wait," she breathed heavily against his ear, reaching her own hand between them to grasp his. He hesitated immediately, searching her eyes, wondering why she had stopped him.

Gradually, her eyelids drooped and she leaned in to take his lips once more. Her fingers laced with his between their bodies, each digit stretching and flexing between his, rubbing his knuckles with her palm as she went. Slowly, she maneuvered his hand lower to press against her. He caressed the surface of her jeans carefully, and she ground herself into his hand and against him, pressing his hand against her even more firmly. Her other hand cupped his cheek, keeping her eyes locked with his as their breath fused together. He continued to grind against her and kissed the side of her eye, her forehead, and everywhere else his lips could find. She slowly allowed him to remove his hand from between her legs and undo the button of her jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly, knuckles grazing the fabric of her underwear.

She pushed the hem of his shirt up to the pit of his arms, but he was too concerned with where his own hands were to allow her to remove his sweat-laden shirt completely. She relished in the feel of his skin on hers. Wanting to feel more of him, she reached a hand behind herself and quickly shed her bra. Rough hairs scratched and tickled her, and she had no hesitation in applying her mouth to his chest, holding her hands at his waist.

She reached a hand between them once again, unzipping his jeans and slipping several fingers into the waistband of his briefs, sliding her palm every so often against the extremely determined pressure throbbing into her hip.

He pulled her hand away suddenly, and pushed his briefs down low enough to reveal himself. He then reached to her jeans; she wriggled in assistance as he pulled them down just far enough so that he could push her underwear aside. Delicately, he slid his hand down her thigh to the curve of her knee, hoisting and bracing it against the base of his back.

He touched his tip to her, found her eyes with his, seeking permission. She cupped his face and kissed him deeply and longingly, and then slowly moved her hand to guide him into her.

Long, measured breaths were shared between them as he entered her; she felt her walls tighten comfortably around him as he eased in. Their eyes connected and they stood there for a moment, feeling each other as one for the first time. The air between them was hot and moist, he kissed her lower lip, and again, running his tongue along it as he sucked gently. She caught his tongue with her lips and kissed him again. Finally.

He began to move against her. She allowed him to work; she did not match his thrusts or demand more from him. She simply held one hand to his lower back, the other braced them against the bench behind her.

She leaned her head heavily against his, their hair sweaty and sticking to each other, and she breathed his name rhythmically in his ear with each thrust.

He could feel her beginning to tighten around him, feel the pressure building. His rhythm became more erratic as he pushed her closer and closer to climax. Her hands had moved to grasp his shoulder blades, nails grinding into him. She closed her eyes and her pelvis suddenly thrust forward, her back arched against him, his hands supported her as she shattered around him, she threw her head forward against his chest, and as another involuntary thrust pulsated her walls around him, she pulled his mouth to hers one last time as she pulled him harder into her with the leg wrapped around him, soaking up the feeling of him completely and totally as she climaxed against him. He followed quickly after, her vibrations carrying him to his own climactic end.

Slowly, reluctantly, they untangled themselves from each other. He stayed close to her as he redid his pants and she replaced her shirt. He pulled her to him, across the other side of the kitchen, and held her close. Feeling her warmth and inhaling her hair that was still scented like her, despite their combined sweat. Her hands held his shirt, too tired to embrace him completely, and rested her head against his chest. He kissed her forehead.

Some time later, he returned to making the coffee that had sat to the side, forgotten in the wake of their passion.

**The End.**


End file.
